The Fireworks are Hailin' over Little Eden Tonight

When I first saw that the 4th of July fell on a Wednesday this year, I was disappointed. A Wednesday?  Smack in the middle of the week?  How, exactly, was that going to work?  How would I make the most of my favorite holiday of the year when it was sandwiched in between two work days?

In the end though, I must say I rather enjoyed how the week played out, for the whole week had a holiday feel to it.  A holiday that we can normally only stretch through a long weekend - if we're lucky - felt like it went on for a good ten days instead.  The city cleared out the weekend prior, and those of us that were still left among the pavement and sidewalks and tall buildings adopted a bit of a vacation air despite ourselves.  Monday and Tuesday proved quiet in the office, allowing me to knock out a few long ignored projects without the constant interruption of phone calls and emails.

On Tuesday night, I hopped a flight down to Hot-'lanta (and I call Atlanta that without an ounce of irony, for it was hot) to visit my Momma.  I took Thursday and Friday off of work, which gave me the luxury of extra days, something I don't get enough of when I visit my family, ever, it seems.  

Mom and I picnicked, "fireworked", grilled, hung by the pool, hit the local farmer's market, and did a bit of antiquing over the course of the five days.  We also ate.  Ate well. 

Because when your Southern Mom asks you what you'd like for dinner,  you might mention a craving for fried catfish.  And when she agrees to make that fried catfish for you, hush puppies, sweet tea, and all?  Well, you clean your plate, of course.  Particularly when you know you only get on a meal like this once a year or so, and you're lucky if it's that often.

And if there's another night where you feast on fried chicken and yet another where you chow down on BBQ ribs, well, all the better.

That's what holidays are all about, right?  The food?  This one just happens to lend an extra added bonus of summer sun and firework explosions in the sky.

I love the 4th of July for many, many reasons, but as Mom and I camped out on our blanket last Wednesday night, waiting for the fireworks to start, I watched a little girl, about 8 or 9 years old, dance around the lawn, a silver sparkler in her hand. Her long brown hair trailed behind her as she laughed and waved her glowing sparkler in the darkening sky.  She was giddy with delight, her face was flushed from the heat and a day in the sun.  She was wearing red, white, and blue.  It was classic, iconic.  Watching her reminded me for yet another year what a marvelous thing we celebrate every July.  And how so very lucky and grateful I am to be a part of it.